I hadn’t even planned on working at camp that summer. I should’ve been at school, but instead, I was outdoors. Paid to fib to children about the existence of fantastic, magical creatures – really, there is no better job. And I landed there almost by accident.
So there I was that night, at a camp party, at 16. Life can really take you by surprise!
I had barely noticed you over the six preceding weeks – I had been so caught up in experiencing this new world. I didn’t even know you yet, but honestly, by the end of that night, I would’ve welcomed a kiss from you. I remember the sparkle in your eyes, by the light of the campfire that evening, late into the month of June. I didn’t think I believed in love at first sight. Looking back now though, I should consider reconsidering.
A mutual friend introduced us during the dinner portion of the party. She switched places so you’d be sitting accross the picnic table from me. I can’t remember much of the conversation, but I’ll never forget the gift you received from another animator as a joke about your camp name – a pair of pink socks, much too small for your size twelve feet.
I recall watching you carefully, studying you really, as I did often that summer. I’m not sure how long it took until I realized that you were looking to get to know me, in that way. But I was a bit naïve, and quite frankly, fairly clueless about dating. I think I figured it out around dessert, after which we, along with my sister and two other friends, headed off to experience some ordinary camp activities in the darkness of a mid-summer night. Alright, not quite mid-summer, but almost.
You worked in maintenance, and I was a lifeguard, which means I didn’t know my way around the forest as well as you. The dark woods created a perfect atmosphere for horror stories, but I’ve always been a bit of a scaredy Kat (get it? Yeah okay, nevermind). So the girls stayed behind, knowingly sharing scary tales to keep me away, giving the two of us a moment alone.
You took a shortcut through the trees, and I wasn’t sure if I trusted you to not get us lost. I followed you anyway, and you could’ve kissed me that night, in the woods. But you didn’t. I stepped aside slightly, narrowing the distance between us. I still don’t know whether or not you’d noticed. It didn’t matter; it was a nearly perfect night, swinging from a wooden swing in the forest, rock climbing indoors, swimming in the lake at midnight, and watching the fireworks over the moonlit water.
During the following 13 days, we both spoke more than we probably had with anybody else ever (in that amount of time). Our conversations often converged into a game of 20 Questions, or rather, an adapted version, through which we learnt much about each other and each other’s family. We were constantly teased by the children from daycamp – apparently, sitting together on the lifeguard chair during breaks wasn’t quite subtle enough.
On the 12th of July, you came home with me before a Thursday night soccer game. I still remember the outfit I was wearing – and I still won’t let myself throw it out, even though the clothes don’t quite fit right anymore. After dinner, we strolled down the hill to the nearby waterfall.Sitting on the rocks in the woods, next to a calmer part of the water, we settled into our routine of 20 Questions.
I asked you about your favourite colour (green, blue) and which foods you don’t like (peppers, tomatoes, onions, and sometimes mushrooms). You asked about my pets (Arhtur, Monika, Charlie), and my hobbies (soccer, swimming, writing). Then the questions dove into a new level of personal. We discussed our issues, our dreams, our secrets, and our ambitions. You really could’ve kissed me then. But you didn’t. Honestly, I was starting to get impatient.
We left the falls and undertook the short, uphill walk back home, along the bikepath. From the minute we left the woods behind us, you were acting a bit different. A bit sullen, but that’s not quite the right word. You seemed to be a little disappointed with yourself, though I didn’t really realize this until you told me later. I had realized something was bothering you, so I pushed you to talk about it, but you didn’t. And we kept on walking.
Near the top of the hill, I was stopped mid-step, as you held my hand without mentioning it, and had suddenly remained still. Not expecting this change in momentum, I was still as well for a second. A woman on a bike rode by – not on the bicycle path – watching us. It’s so fresh in my mind, it’s like it was today. Like it was happening now:
I turn towards you and look up to your eyes: you’re nervous. You bend a little, narrowing the distance between our lips. Yours so close to mine. Before we touch, I tilt my head downwards. Putting my hand on your chest for the first time, I whisper “no” – very, very quietly. You sigh, and wrap your arms around me, as I bury my face in your white t-shirt, mumbling about being shy because it would be my first kiss.
Don’t read this wrong, I sincerely wanted to share that special moment with you. I was head-over-heals, first-love, absolutely happy. But I was nervous too.
I’d been waiting, expecting you to kiss me at some point, but I had been so caught up in the moment; I hadn’t the time to analyze or even think about the logistics of it all. At that moment, I remember the sudden realization that I knew nothing about something so basic. Desiring, but panicking, worried thoughts floated about in my head: How does it work exactly? Do we just touch lips? What do I do?
I lift my head up again, standing on my tiptoes. I let you take the lead. The woman on the bike rides by again. She cheers upon witnessing our kiss. We both laugh, standing in the middle of the bike path, blissfully unaware of the time. I’m late for soccer, but I don’t even notice.
I arrive just in time for the start of the game.
That night, I’m in nets, and I have the biggest, goofiest smile on my face. I can’t help it; you swept me off my cleats.
katherine willcocks 